


Another Sort of Pressure

by Catchclaw



Series: Mental Mimosa [58]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rescue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-25 22:26:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14986913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catchclaw/pseuds/Catchclaw
Summary: “I resent the implication,” Tony said, “that I was ever in need of your help.”





	Another Sort of Pressure

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Rescue. Prompt from this [ generator.](http://bleep0bleep.tumblr.com/prompts)

“I resent the implication,” Tony said, “that I was ever in need of your help.”

Steve grunted and tightened his grip beneath Tony’s shoulders, stiffened the arm under Tony’s knees. “You usually walk around with a bone sticking out of your leg? Huh. Hadn’t noticed.”

It was supposed to be a straightforward mission, of course: tracking down an ancient HYDRA base that Barnes had remembered in a three AM fever dream. Tony had been sure it was a fairytale, an unhappy burp of Barnes’ still-suspect subconscious, but Steve had taken it seriously--didn’t he always?--and it’d been easier for Tony to insist he tag along than to try and talk Cap out of it all together and goddamn, surely Steve was glad that he had because the bunker they’d found buried in the forests of Manitoba had been something from a dream, all right. More like a nightmare.

There were teeth and tentacles and what Tony prayed was not really a human face and it’d gotten the jump on them, hard, leaping into the light like a monster that lived under your bed.

They’d killed it, eventually. But not before it’d thrown Tony so hard into a tree the size of the Chrysler building that half his suit went to pieces and his right leg had been brutally snapped.

Now they faced a two-mile hike back to the Quinjet because someone (Cap) had insisted on subterfuge, on sneaking up on the place instead of charging head on. Which was bullshit then and especially bullshit now that Tony was being carried like a broken bride and doing everything he could not to cry out with every step that Steve took.

So he was running his mouth because crossing rhetorical swords with Steve usually helped take his mind off of whatever toxic crap was running around inside him. Wasn’t going so great today.

“I was _fine_ ,” Tony said for the 47th time,“or I would’ve been if you’d given me ten minutes to collect what was left of my suit. It’s not like I’m bleeding out or anything.”

“No,” Steve said wryly, “but half of your femur’s outside of your skin. There is some blood involved here.”

Tony took a breath, a deep one, and tried to hide the shakiness of his exhale. “I’m gonna take your word on that. Not super crazy about looking at it.”

Maybe it was the pain talking, or his imagination, but it seemed like Steve tucked him a little closer, picked up his pace a bit over the dark forest floor, filled with shadows even now at midday. “I can describe it to you, if you’d like.”

“No, hey. That’s ok.”

Steve chuckled. “You can close your eyes,” he said. “Don’t have to look at anything if you don’t want to. I’ve got you.”

Tony squeezed Steve’s neck, bit back the urge to bury his face against it, to drown himself in the soft damp of Steve’s skin and distract himself from the pain. “I know,” he said. “I know you do.”

And then the next thing he knew, they were high in the air, the frame of the Quinjet humming happily around them as they dashed up and out of that godforsaken place and sailed in a long arc towards the compound.

“Tony,” Steve said from the pilot’s seat, his voice warm and firm, “stop fighting the meds and close your eyes again, ok? We’ll be home before you know it.”

“Home,” Tony said to himself, the word sinking past the drugs, past the dull reaches of pain, and settling heavy hot into his heart. “That’s where we’re going, yep. Home.”

Maybe he’s a little out of his mind when they land, maybe he’s certifiably crazy, but later, he could’ve sworn that when they landed, before the door to the Quinjet swung open, he’d felt Steve’s hand on his forehead, smoothing his hair back, then curving around his cheek. He could’ve sworn that one of those big, broad thumbs turned over his lips before he felt another sort of pressure there, soft and chapped, felt a whisper over his chin: “I've always got you, Tony. When are you gonna learn that?"


End file.
